The Yule Ball According to Draco Malfoy
by MamaLaz
Summary: Well, the name is quite self-explanatory. A prequel to 'I'm Not in Denial'. Slashy thoughts and innuendos. One-sided R/D.


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**The Yule Ball According to Draco Malfoy**

Draco Malfoy smirked into the full-length mirror as he flicked his silver fringe out of his grey eyes. Oh yes, he looked more than just his usually tasty looking self. He was literally edible. With a wink at his reflection, he adjusted his stiff, high collar and ironed out a crease by swiping at it with the pad of his thumb, marvelling at how good he looked. Damn, he even surprised himself at times with his sheer brilliance, and he thought that was virtually impossible… especially considering how high he usually praised himself. It was a shame he had to ruin this perfect vision by draping pug-faced Parkinson on his arm. He shuddered as he remembered the outfit she _had_ been planning to wear before Draco hexed it apart with his wand. Not only did it completely clash with his own designer dress robes but lurid pink flowers were a definite no-no on orange material. That dizzy cow… couldn't she see how disgusting it looked? Did she purposely crave for the blond Slytherin to scathingly tell her that she looked about as attractive to him as Albus Dumbledore in a thong? And it was an even uglier picture when he _did _tell her…

There was a sudden knock on the door, distracting the Slytherin from recalling the comforting and entertaining image of Pansy blubbering. He snapped his head towards the door, a scowl slowly appearing on his pointed features. He knew it was either Crabbe or Goyle since nobody else had the skill or gormlessness to knock as dully as they did. Bugger them; he was just warming to his own company as well. Draco sighed irritably, rolling his eyes. 

"Get in here then, if you bloody have to," he snapped, hurriedly buttoning his shirt and tying up the silver fastenings to his cloak. You could never show naked skin around those two, especially his flawless chest. He wasn't fool enough to not guess what Goyle's slow and stupid mind was processing as his dim, small eyes scanned a bit _too_ closely at the Malfoy's pale upper body. Draco snorted with the thought as the door creaked open. The only way that idiot would ever get near his arse would be if he drugged the blond and cast the Imperius Curse upon him. And that wasn't going to happen anytime soon since a) He wouldn't dare b) He couldn't do the Imperius if he tried for the rest of his life and c) Draco, being the perfect being he was, would fight it off, turn Goyle into a mouse and then feed him to his eagle owl Hades, who greatly liked playing with her food. He heard a shuffle of feet behind him and caught their reflections in the mirror as he pushed a strand of hair from his eyes, admiring himself. Damn, they really dirtied the mirror's image, didn't they? Turning suavely to face them, he crossed his arms and then cocked his head to one side to eye them properly. 

"Nice outfits," he smirked softly, his cold eyes scanning over the identical moss green robes that made them look like two mounds of grass. "Still taking each other I see. Plan on slow dancing, too?" They blushed together and though Draco reasoned to himself that Pansy was hardly much better looking than either of them, he grinned maliciously anyway. Crabbe was the first one to speak, looking as red as his name suggested as he lowered his eyesight to his shoes and began in that dense, deep voice of his.

"Draco, uh… you know about our…"

"Yes, yes… I know about your undying love for each other, you perverts," the Slytherin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'd rather you not tell me again. I'd just prefer not to think about you two lumps getting it on. And Gregory, stop staring at my crotch." 

"Uh… Sorry, Draco…" he said with a sheepish, stupid grin as he managed to lift his eyes to the Malfoy's grey eyes. After giving his boyfriend a none too happy look, Crabbe turned back to the blond again and looked uncharacteristically pensive. His broad, dull face was looking almost imploringly at the smaller boy.

"But, uh… you're our best friend, Draco… we had to tell…"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not your best friend?!" he snapped angrily, then started to work on his cufflinks. "The only reason I hang around with you two dolts is because it's my father's wish. End of story."

There was a pause before Goyle slowly said,

"So, you don't wanna be my best man then?" 

Draco decided to ignore him.

"Is pug-face in the common room, or can't your stupid minds deal with recognition?" Goyle blinked gradually out of his genuinely hurt expression to answer in his usual monotone.

"Uh, yeah… she's…" 

That was all the Slytherin needed as he swept passed them, distinctly aware that two pairs of eyes were staring avidly at his rear. He was too tired and grossed out to reprimand them. Besides, he knew how good he looked in his tightly fitting robes. It was understandable for those brainless idiots to stare at him hungrily though it was sickening to know that that prickling he felt on his back was due to two giant hunks of meat who had the shared mental capacity of a Flobberworm. 

Straightening his silver basilisk-shaped ear cuff again with his fingertips, Draco had hardly swept two fashionable steps into the packed and noisy common room when he heard a squeal.

"Dracky-poo!" 

He squeezed his eyes shut in revulsion, though flicked them open again when he distinctly heard sniggering. He snapped his head sharply around with his almost animal-like audible range towards the culprits. Bloody third years. Didn't they know that Slytherins didn't giggle? Did they want to be put in bloody crapping Gryffindor? He scowled as he eyed them chortling merrily in the corner at Pansy's exuberance. The two girls and one boy ceased their laughter immediately with his murderous stare. In fact, they now looked like they were going to cry. Draco smirked with satisfaction as he strode passed them self-assuredly and towards Pansy. His fellow Slytherin fourth years looked disgustingly excited. Blaise Zabini, dressed in his deep navy robes and with his blue-black hair sticking up almost artistically, was one of the few looking worried as he gazed up at the towering form of his date, Millicent Bulstrode. The big girl was too busy, however, glaring at Draco and growling. The blond almost ran away like a little girl when he saw her expression. She was honestly the last person he wanted to see and he was almost happy to notice Pansy's sickeningly delighted expression. However, before Parkinson could coo anything else, he composed himself, avoided Millicent's eye and attempted to coldly snarl.

"What have I told you about calling me _Dracky-poo_?" He spat the nauseating name out in disgust. Pansy bit her pink bottom lip immediately, like a naughty child who had disobeyed her insanely severe father. The look had no affect on the blond as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting impatiently for an apology. In fact, he thought it made her look even viler. She dropped her eyes to her matching pink shoes and spoke barely above a hushed whisper, her fidgeting gaudy pink nails clawing at the frills on her cuffs. 

"Not to…" her shaking, breaking voice managed. She lifted her head up to meet his eyes, her expression now pleading. "I promise I'll remember next time, Draco. Please say you'll forgive me…"

Draco snorted. It was one of the biggest reasons he could never be attracted to Pansy, besides her hideous looks and annoying voice. She just did whatever he told her to. And he couldn't bloody stand it. He needed someone to fight with… to bloody punch when he wanted to make his point. To roll around with on the floor then pin down and start to have the real fun with. He also realised that all this pointed towards his wanting a guy to do it with. Which really was a quite disturbing revelation for a Malfoy to unearth, especially when he also realised he had a thing for redheads, too…

But now he was getting off the point… which was now to chastise the pug. 

"It better not happen again," he warned coldly, trying to keep a completely expressionless façade and the 'eager-to-please' girl nodded her head so vigorously that he was sure it would fall off her shoulders. Well, one could dream…

The Malfoy, his arms still crossed, continued to stare at the girl icily. She may have been slow but even Draco noticed that it didn't take her long to realise what exactly he was expecting for her to say to him. She must have really been preparing for this…

"You… you look really good, Draco," she finally said the obvious, eying him unashamedly and smiling almost smugly. Draco wanted to wipe it off her face. This didn't mean by any means that they were a couple, and she had better realise that. He only even planned this stupid charade so that that Bulstrode bitch would stop violently threatening him to ask her to the ball. 

Damn… he even appealed to Neanderthals…

He inwardly gulped as he remembered the last encounter in Potions when her huge, bulky build had cornered him in Snape's supply closet, a look of violent lust on her fat, hairy face. He tried to avoid her eye again as he could sense her still glaring at him. If he weren't so relieved for his own safety, he would have sympathised with Zabini. Wait, not sympathised. Pitied. Malfoys _pitied_. And this Malfoy presently pitied the dark haired boy for having been tied to a chair and threatened with Bulstrode's wand between his legs to take her to the ball. When he looked closely, Draco was sure that the boy now walked slightly bowlegged…

Pansy was still smiling with sugary sweetness at him, obviously expecting him to return the flattering compliment. He snapped out of his reverie, his eyes now carefully and unflatteringly flicking over her glittery pink heels, up to her frilly pink robes and finally to her made up face and hair. The boy smirked cruelly.

"Yes. I know how good I look. It doesn't need to be stated. Now let's go." He didn't miss the crumpling effect on her face as he swept passed her and out the dungeons, his smirk still fixed well onto his features. Well, she didn't want him to lie did she? And Malfoy's hardly ever lied… 

He tried not to grin outwardly as he ascended almost majestically up the stairs to his destination, knowing that the rest of his year were following right behind him. He didn't even have to tell them to tag along with him anymore. They just did. And he just smiled. 

The group of chattering Slytherins behind the pale blond boy were halfway to the Great Hall and could just about make out the many robe colours of students milling outside the presently closed doors as they slowly reached the top of the steps. It was just before they were visible to the Entrance Hall occupants when Draco heard a crazy galloping behind him and soon afterwards felt an out of breath Pansy slip her arm through his own. Before he could snarl or curse her for unauthorised touching she threw him a desperate look, her face red from running in her impractical heels. Draco pursed his lips as he felt his foot reach the final step and looked around to find his dragon hide shoes solidly on the Entrance Hall floor. That clever little bitch. Knowing to do it when they were in front of people and especially teachers so he couldn't do anything to throw her off. Clenching his jaw, he walked regally forward towards the doors, catching bloody Potter watching him as he approached. He wanted to say something but decided against it. Bloody Potter had bloody Weasel with him. Draco wanted to smirk. So Weasley did decide to wear those God Awful robes, did he? And he couldn't even work a Severing Charm correctly. He looked every ounce the sorry little poor boy he was and… whoa! The Weasel actually managed to find a date? Draco eyed the pretty Indian girl who was looking at Weasley with an unimpressed expression that Draco heatedly thought only he was allowed to direct towards the Weasel. The redhead just ignored her and continued to pull at the stray threads from his cuffs, occasionally glancing around the hall as though he was looking for someone. Probably Mudblood Granger. To be honest, Draco was surprised that she hadn't gone with either Scarhead or Boy Weasel. Who else would take her? Draco inwardly grinned as he remembered that Potions lesson when his spell had ricocheted and turned her into the human beaver. He also remembered Weasley's concern as he ran over to help. Draco snorted. They were probably shagging. 

It was disgusting really. 

Suddenly their gazes locked, and so abruptly that Draco hadn't even programmed a sneer. Weasley had though, and produced a unique scowl that was directed solely at him, almost daring him to say something cutting. Unfortunately they were too far away to do anything but exchange dirty looks. The Slytherin couldn't help but feel flattered by the attention as he smirked attractively and gave him the finger. Weasley coloured slightly and growled but turned stiffly back to Potter, almost forcing himself not to rise to the bait. Damn, Draco loved these little interactions. They honestly did make his day complete. Pissing off Weasley was always on his 'To do' list. Why else would he subscribe to the Daily Prophet so zealously? 

The oak front doors opened suddenly and despite himself, the blond turned curiously to the sound. He hissed at Pansy as her grip around his arm tightened with excitement. Ahhh, the Durmstrang lot had arrived. Following tradition, Karkaroff was leading them. Viktor Krum and some bimbo he probably randomly picked up followed right behind him. Draco didn't miss the sweeping, almost nervy look Karkaroff gave him. Draco smiled at him, practically flashing his canines. Oh yes, the blond had already informed his father of the ex Death Eater's presence at Hogwarts. His sharp grey eyes had even once made out the Dark Mark standing out from the Headmaster's pale white arm. Karkaroff averted his eyes to the other students on noticing the Slytherin boy's dry amusement.

"Champions over here, please!" 

At McGonagall's words, Draco's eyes immediately wandered over to Weasley's corner, his mouth curling into a scowl of deepest loathing as he eyed Potter getting dragged to the front by his excitable partner. Stupid Potter. The blond knew how much the arrogant git was enjoying this. It was nice always being the centre of attention wasn't it, Pothead? Draco puffed his chest out regally, then deflated somewhat when he noticed a look of longing on Weasley's freckled face. A look that clearly told the blond, 'Why can't I be a Champion, too?' His familiar sneer tugged at his lips again. How pathetic.  

He suddenly felt a tug on his arm and promptly threw Parkinson a very warning look. 

Oh, right. It was time to go in. His musings had left him more detached than was usually possible for a Malfoy. 

Draco suddenly glanced over at Pansy with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes as a thought occurred to him. Hmmm… flat chest. Mannish features. And he didn't find her in the least bit attractive. Well, that pretty much proved his lack of faggotism. 

"What are you looking at, Draco?" she asked timidly, although was blushing slightly under the deep study. 

"Nothing…" Draco paused for the cruel effect of his words, flicking his eyes nastily over her body. "Nothing at all." He did love how he could be so openly spiteful sometimes. With a satisfied smile at her downcast expression, Draco turned back to the champions and began to storm self-assuredly passed them and into the hall, practically dragging Parkinson with him.

To tell the truth, he thought that was enough cruelty to have Pansy permanently mute for the entire night but he was wrong when he heard her hiss and tug at his arm again only a few seconds later.

"Oh. My. God…" 

With a growl, he turned and opened his mouth to threaten the girl with the usual unwholesome terrorisation but then stopped to gape as much as her.

Bloody hell. It was _Granger _on Krum's arm_._ Granger actually looking _good_. Even Potter's mouth dropped open as Pansy gawped in unflattering disbelief. Weasley just walked passed them all and into the hall, his date slumping after him. Dense idiot probably didn't even recognise her. Probably too busy trying to steal the silverware and sneak them into those pitiful robes of his. At least they were good for something. 

But damn, the mudblood _really_ knew how to clean up. Draco shook his head in incredulity. He couldn't actually think of anything mean to say. Which was a first for him. He felt Pansy now lead him away, Draco still feeling completely void of evil emotion as he kept continuously looking back at the champions waiting in the entrance hall. Hmmm, this wasn't a good sign. Where was Longbottom when you needed him?

Ahhh, yes. He was behind the Slytherin and clumsily escorting Weasley's little sister into the hall. Draco grinned maliciously. Ever so subtly, not even causing Pansy to notice, he stuck his leg out at the most opportune time and inevitably felt a leg fumble clumsily over his shin. With a loud thump, the surrounding students all laughed as Neville Longbottom fell straight on his bottom. Weasley's sister shot Draco a very filthy look as she helped the red-faced boy up, her eyes flashing dangerously. Draco just smiled simply at her as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed behind him. Now, this was what made life worth living. Shame it wasn't her brother lying on his back instead. In fact, her brother was busy slouching in his seat near the front table and completely ignoring the girl he was with. 

"Oh, Longbottom. Glad to see you could make it," the blond drawled, his fellow Slytherins practically sniggering at his every word. Honestly, he would just have to say one word to make them all burst into rapturous laughter. They were such sheep. Well, except for Zabini. He was too busy trying not to cry as Millicent squeezed her sausage-like fingers over his considerably smaller hands. 

The girl Weasley went her hereditary red and gave the Malfoy another fuming look, though didn't dare say a word as the podgy boy got to his feet and they hurried away towards the sanctity of the front table. Almost bowing to his adoring fans, Draco sauntered over to the adorned Slytherin table and placed himself ceremoniously into his usual seat. Along with the adequate decorations of frost and ivy about the Great Hall, the blond boy noticed that the odd mistletoe seemed to materialise frequently above his head and he didn't miss the many looks from Pansy every time this happened. Having her on his arm was one thing. Sacrificing himself was quite another and especially in the most depraved way imaginable.

Before he knew it, the champions were making their way inside and the whole buzzing hall began to clap politely at their entrance. Draco crossed his arms over his chest and refused to applaud just to punctuate his 'I hate Potter and Mudbloods' opinion even more. With a bored expression, he leaned forward and examined the hall occupants as the four couples made their way forward. Dumbledore actually caught his eye for a second, looking at him with an odd smile, obviously noticing his unsociable gesture, before turning to continue applauding the champions with everyone else.

Stupid old codger.

After amusedly eying that ogre of a groundskeeper looking absolutely atrocious in his disgusting suit, enjoying freaking out Karkaroff with mischievous looks and throwing Longbottom the occasional death glare just to see him squirm and pale, the Slytherin decided to focus his attention on the Weasel. And very interesting it was. The ginger Gryffindor seemed to be trying to bore holes into Granger's skull.

Oh, he obviously didn't know about the Krum situation.

Now, why did Draco find this oh so calming…? Weasley looking like he had just been betrayed and then had his heart trampled on…? 

The blond was bubbling happily inside as the champions finally sat down. Potter was sitting beside Weasley's stuffy older brother and looking as though he hadn't an idea what he was doing. The stupid prat. Didn't he know a self-ordering service when he saw one? Draco crinkled his nose distastefully. God, he was practically a muggle… and he was still bloody worshipped! He would never understand it. And he also would never comprehend how a so-called pureblood like Weasel could betray his race by gallivanting around with such tainted company. Didn't the boy have any shame? 

Draco snorted.

Well of course he didn't. He was a Weasley after all. No money. No dignity. No honour.

And currently without either of his friends…

With a bite of his lip and a sudden determined look in his eye, the blond slipped out of his seat. Pansy, in the middle of ordering something with chocolate in it, looked up in surprise. 

"Draco, where are you…?"

"Away," he said shortly, then looked at Crabbe and Goyle's flushed faces with disgust. "And would you two please stop doing things to each other under the table." They only grinned sheepishly as Draco stalked away, grumbling under his breath and trying to rid himself of explicit thoughts. Stupid big oafs. They probably weren't even doing it properly. Not that Draco particularly knew about things like that. Or dreamt about them. Not at all. 

And talking about Weasley…

"Hey, Weasel. Nice robes. Rob a homeless wizard to get them?"

The Gryffindor was sitting with his arms crossed, his neglected date throwing him the occasional look. He wasn't even eating with his usual appetite. Man, the Mudblood/Krum thing must have really got to him. The redhead's face flinched slightly as he heard the Slytherin's teasing voice.

"Piss off, Malfoy," came the strained, angry reply, though the Gryffindor was still glaring at the top table and particularly at Granger. Bingo. Draco smiled slowly.

"What's wrong, Weasley? Upset that the mudblood didn't want to go with you?" That definitely got the boy sparked. Weasley snapped his head around to look up at Draco's sneering face.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," he growled. The blond shrugged lithely, deeply enjoying the affect he was having. Weasley really was so easy…

"I'd prefer to see you throwing them up, _Weasley_," he smirked in an almost sing song voice. "But then again, you can't blame the Mudblood. You're not exactly a catch. After all, Krum _is _famous. I'm surprised Granger isn't shagging Potter, too…"

Weasley immediately jumped to his feet, the Indian girl beside him looking scandalised, worried and slightly impressed. 

"One more word, Malfoy…" Weasley hissed, his hands clenching by his sides. "Just say one more thing about Hermione…"

Draco flicked his hair out of his eyes. Well, he did ask for it…

"Maybe Granger would go for you, too. All you'd have to do is get your hands on some money… then again, a Weasley with money is like Longbottom on a diet…"

"Is there a problem here, Weasley?" A familiar voice suddenly growled just before the Gryffindor could raise his fist. Draco, against his free will, felt himself break out into a sudden cold sweat as the identifiable _Thunk Thunk Thunk_ informed the two boys that Mad Eye Moody had arrived. 

Weasley looked up, an almost violently triumphant look on his flushed face as he lowered his arm. 

"Malfoy was just leaving," the redhead smirked, smugly crossing his arms victoriously. Draco scowled. No one ordered a Malfoy around. Particularly not the lowest of the low. 

"Actually, I was staying," the blond spat out, eying Weasley viciously. He couldn't bring himself to look at Moody yet… though he wouldn't admit that he was scared of the one-legged freak. Because he wasn't.  

Moody, however, wasn't half as cautious as he leant forward and peered his marred and disfigured face into the pale boy's, his glass eye twitching uncontrollably in its socket as his normal eye glared at the Malfoy in revulsion. Draco tried not to gulp.

"If I were you, sonny, I'd go back to your little group of mini Death Eaters," he growled, his slash of a mouth grotesquely forming into a smile. "Unless your date doesn't object to dancing with a ferret."

Weasley snorted with laughter. So similar to their first meeting all those years ago… Draco didn't like it then and he certainly didn't appreciate it now. 

With as much dignity as he could muster, the pink tinged boy forced a nonchalant expression, then turned around and walked self-assuredly back to the Slytherin table. He threw Weasley a scathing look in the process though. The boy had already sat down to sulkily watch Granger and Krum talking again, continuing to pay no attention to his date who was now making eyes at some Beauxbatons boy. Draco snarled to himself, plopping himself beside Pansy once again. They may have been all high and mighty here but Draco was convinced the Dark Lord would get them both. Weasley and Moody. That was something he promised himself ardently. And he would be there to watch it. Well, his father, being the sick freak he was, would probably videotape it for him anyway.

After viciously throwing Pansy's ninth urging for him to eat in her face, the Slytherin was soon blaming her ferociously for his stomach grumbling when the food had all been consumed. Dumbledore had magicked the rows of tables to the sidelines to create a dance space and the champions were all being ushered to it after the Weird Sisters had set up their equipment (which didn't take long). It was with no small amount of glee that Draco smirked when he witnessed Potter trip over his robes with nerves. However, this was cut short when he felt Pansy's avid gaze. 

"No," he said shortly.

"But Draco… just one dance…" she pleaded. 

_"Malfoy." _

Draco froze at the voice. Oh Lord. He felt a towering shadow casting over him as he warily turned around. 

"Millicent…" He tried not to squeak. The bulky girl was glaring down at him from miles above, her one eyebrow furrowed angrily and her hands on her hips. Her tight fitting lilac robes made her look like a giant muggle blimp that was close to exploding. He forced a smile. "You look… nice."

"You owe me a dance, Malfoy," her deep voice growled. Her narrowed eyes were scanning over him with an approving glint. Draco was too terrified to even think about reprimanding her. This girl could snap his neck in half with her thumb.

"Erm… where's Zabini?" he asked timidly, trying to seem his controlled Malfoy-self yet not provoke her to hurt him in any way. A slow, predatory and slightly mad grin spread across her broad face.

"In the infirmary."  __

"But Dracky-poo already promised me every dance, Millicent," Pansy suddenly cut in, batting her eyelashes sweetly. "And you know the Slytherin girls' rule…" The blond didn't trust himself to speak. Actually letting Parkinson speak for him and call him Dracky-poo were probably the most sordid things he had ever allowed… but if it saved him from Millicent he would even go so far as to strip naked for the pug-faced girl. He'd never mention it though. Knowing Pansy, she'd call in that favour. 

He could have sworn that there was a sudden hush around the table before Pansy practically pulled him out of his seat and led him to the dance floor.

"What did I tell you about calling me Dracky-poo!?" he spat as soon as they were out of earshot, snatching his arm out of her grasp. Pansy bit her lip again, her triumphant smile gone completely. She lowered her eyes and Draco could have sworn he saw tears. He clenched his jaw as he remembered how comparable this was to his and his father's confrontations. Without even realising he'd let it slip out, the blond suddenly said, "You did well, though." She looked up immediately, her face breaking into an almost attractive smile. Draco didn't return it, although he did take her hand and allowed her other hand to lightly touch his shoulder.

"Don't think this makes us a couple, Parkinson," he warned, spinning her around with the music. Well, of course he could dance. All Malfoys were impeccable dancers. Pansy just blushed.

"I don't think we're a couple, Draco." The Slytherin boy let his gaze wander again, all the niceties getting too much for him. How interesting… Weasley seemed to be arguing with the Mudblood. All hot and flushed. Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Besides…" Pansy continued. "I'm not exactly the right gender for you, am I?"

That brought his gaze and attention straight back to her. He narrowed his usually cold, now fuming, eyes.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" he hissed, his nails immediately digging into her hand. Her face screwed up with pain.

"Draco, you're hurting me…"

"Do I look like I care?" He dug his nails even deeper, causing her to whimper slightly. "What the hell did you mean?!"

"I'm not as stupid as you think, Draco," she said in her annoying whine, managing to pull back her abused hand, rubbing it gingerly. They stopped dancing and just glared at one another. "I've noticed how you look at Weasley. It's sick, if you ask me. If your father knew…"

The blond grabbed her upper arm painfully, and pulled her very close to him. Although he was furious, he could see the slight excitement in her eye.

"Share your thoughts with anyone else, Parkinson, and I'll make your life a living misery." Pansy smirked, though it looked quite fearful and strained.

"You didn't even deny it." He went pale. 

And she was right. 

He let go, his entire body shaking. For a minute he wasn't sure what to do. Then he turned around and began walking. 

"Where are you going?" she asked curiously, hurrying after him.

"Out," he grumbled shortly. "And if you follow me I'll turn you into a hamster."

He didn't have to turn again to check she had fallen back. The noise of her clacking heels was slowly fading away as the infuriated boy stormed out into the Entrance Hall and through the open doors to the grounds. The fairy lights twinkled at him from the rose bushes as he stepped into the crisp night air. He wanted to set them on fire then throw Pansy and her stupid theories in with them. What the hell did she know about anything anyway?

Batting wayward twigs out of his way angrily, the Slytherin noticed that he wasn't the only person bored by the events inside. He also noticed that he was far from alone out here.

And what were Potter and Weasley doing out here together? And why couldn't the redheaded git stop appearing everywhere he went?

The Slytherin had already got an eyeful of what Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies were doing in that bush over there and he felt a strange feeling in his stomach as he squinted his eyes at the two Gryffindors. Damn, he couldn't tell what they were up to…

"Well, Master Malfoy. We meet again…" Draco let out a dejected smirk as he turned to the person hiding behind an inconspicuous hedge. However, she hardly looked inconspicuous in lime green robes and clutching her crocodile skin handbag.

"Ms Skeeter, what can I do for you?" he asked in his sweetest schoolboy voice. She smiled and the Malfoy noticed how her gold teeth glinted with the sparse fairy light. 

"Well, your information was very helpful. Anything else to tell my readers? Anything to reveal the _real_ Harry Potter to the public?" 

Draco shrugged and jerked his thumb casually towards the boys.

"I think he's over there making out with Weasley behind a reindeer if that's helpful." Rita Skeeter's eyes widened, as though the Pulitzer Prize was within her grasp.

"Wonderful! This is even better than the caretaker's curious relationship with his cat…" 

Rolling his eyes, he slumped away; not really in the mood to watch the transforming beetle expose the secret love life of Harry Potter. To be honest, he'd rather it didn't exist. Potter getting it on with anyone was enough to make his skin crawl. And Potter getting it on with Weasley… well… he especially didn't like it.

This evening was turning out to be a royal mess. Being continually harassed by bloody Bulstrode, having Parkinson find out his most shameful secret, having Moody threaten him with eternal life as ferret and stupid Weasley just being there was pissing him right off. Oh well, at least he wasn't in Zabini's shoes. Or in an infirmary bed. And as usual, he was left to his own devices. He wondered if Crabbe and Goyle could spare a minute to terrorise a first year with him. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he supposed that they were probably still groping each other. Disgusting. 

After spending a while spying on Snape and Karkaroff, the bored Slytherin dragged himself back to the castle. Maybe he could find himself some food. His stomach was still aching from before. It was his own fault really, though he wasn't about to admit it. Reluctantly heading back to the Slytherin table, Draco sat himself down next to a red-faced Crabbe. Goyle seemed to have _accidentally _slipped all the way under the table. The blond tried not to think about it. 

Some people were still dancing exuberantly to the music. Draco could see Weasley's twin brothers hovering over the punch bowl with identical grins on their faces. _Probably spiking it_, he thought wryly. It was at times like this that he wondered why the hat didn't declare them Slytherins…

Someone slipped in the other chair beside him. He could tell by the cheap perfume that Pansy had returned.

"I… I got you some food," she said nervously. He could hear her dropping several items on the table. He wasn't watching her though. Weasley and Potter had returned from outside. Somewhere inside him a satisfied voice noted that they weren't flushed. Their heads were awfully close together though…

"I told you I didn't want any," he said stiffly, still watching the two Gryffindors in rapt discussion. Probably deliberating a plan on saving Mudbloods. Stupid queers.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it, Draco. If you like Wea-"

He snapped his head around to face her.

"I don't." Then he picked up the banana she'd brought him. Pansy just nodded then peered over at Crabbe with a revolted expression.

"Do you have to do that in public? Draco's trying to eat."

"No he's not, he's staring at Potter…" Goyle said, slipping out from under the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco shuddered. The banana in his mouth was suddenly very hard to chew.

"Thinking up another plan, Draco?" Crabbe asked. Draco swallowed painfully, white gooey mush sliding nauseatingly down his throat. He managed to produce an evil look though.

"Yeah," he said patiently and truthfully as he glared at the two boys in the trio. "I'm going to get that Weasley if it's the last thing I do."

***

When midnight approached, Draco was incredibly relieved. Many people were expressing the wish that the ball could have gone on longer, but the Slytherin begged to differ; he personally thought it sucked. Heading out with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, the blond found himself looking back at the Gryffindor table again. Pansy watched silently, although did throw him a reassuring look. He ignored her. He didn't want her sodding support. He was just curious about what they were talking about. That was all. 

When they got to the Entrance Hall, Draco proceeded in the opposite direction to the dungeons. His three companions looked confused.

"Draco, where are…?"

"Just off to visit Hades in the Owlery," he said shortly. "Don't bother waiting up." Before they could question another word, he swept his way passed them and up the stairs. Sure enough, Weasley was stomping his way up the stairs. Potter had disappeared off with Diggory. Lover's tiff? The Slytherin grinned as he moved cat-like after the boy. 

What he was doing exactly, he didn't really know. Did he actually have a plan after he was discovered? Draco did something he didn't usually do. He bit his lip. 

Just one last fight to finish off his day. That was all. 

He hurried forward.

"Hey, Weasley! Sneaking off with Potter outside? Show you a thing or two in the bushes, did he?"

Weasley stopped immediately then spun around, his lips pursed angrily. He never could just walk away, could he?

"Why don't you just sod off, Malfoy? Why can't you just get a bloody life and stop stalking people who can't stand you?"

He had to admit that one hurt just slightly. Instead, he just smirked.

"Because you're so easy to target, Weasel. Besides, you should be happy. No one else gives you the time of day. Can't blame them though… you really are a nothing compared to everyone around you. Granger's got the brain, Potter's got the fame… what the hell have you got?" 

That seemed to do it. Weasley pounced on him, twisting his hands around his collar. 

"Malfoy, why don't you just leave me the heck alone?! What _is_ your problem?" The hurt look in his bright blue eyes was clearly visible as he let go and shoved the smaller boy at the nearest wall. The redhead then spun around and stomped towards the Gryffindor dorms. Draco could only press his lips together as he watched the retreating back, leaning himself against the wall he was just hurtled at.

_Weasley, Weasley… how can you be so blind? _

With one last appreciative look over the redhead's tall frame and with a wistful little smile on his face, he turned and headed back to the dungeons.


End file.
